the spring and summer waned, and Alma's outward
life flowed as smoothly as the currents of the seasons, broken only by
vivid eruptions from Anna, who came over often from East Exeter,
glorying in her young matronhood, "to cheer Alma up." Alma, so said
Exeter people, was becoming unsociable and old maidish. She lost her
liking for company, and seldom went anywhere among her neighbours. Her
once frequent visits across the yard to chat with old Mrs. Murray
became few and far between. She could not bear to hear the old lady
talking about Gilbert, and she was afraid that some day she would be
told that he was coming home. Gilbert's home-coming was the nightmare
dread that darkened poor Alma's whole horizon.

* * * * *

One October day, two years after Gilbert's departure, Alma, standing
at her window in the reflected glow of a red maple outside, looked
down the lane and saw him striding up it! She had had no warning of
his coming. His last letter, dated three weeks back, had not hinted at
it. Yet there he was--and with him Alma's Nemesis.

She was very calm. Now that the worst had come, she felt quite strong
to meet it. She would tell Gilbert the truth, and he would go away in
anger and never forgive her, but she deserved it. As she went
downstairs, the only thing that really worried her was the thought of
the pain Gilbert would suffer when she told him of Anna's
faithlessness. She had seen his face as he passed under her window,
and it was the face of a blithe man who had not heard any evil
tidings. It was left to her to tell him; surely, she thought
apathetically, that was punishment enough for what she had done.

With her hand on the doorknob, she paused to wonder what she should
say when he asked her why she had not told him of Anna's marriage when
it occurred--why she had still continued the deception when it had no
longer an end to serve. Well, she would tell him the truth--that it
was because she could not bear the thought of giving up writing to
him. It was a humiliating thing to confess, but that did not
matter--nothing mattered now. She opened the door.

Gilbert was standing on the big round door-stone under the red
maple--a tall, handsome young fellow with a bronzed face and laughing
eyes. His exile had improved him. Alma found time and ability to
reflect that she had never known Gilbert was so fine-looking.

He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek in his frank delight a